Lead Me Not Into Temptation
by Truths-Witness
Summary: AU Eric and Sookie. When faced with England's most notorious rake, Eric Northman, will Sookie succumb to the darkness of his obsession or be driven mad by it. A dark fic with liberties taken, please R&R.


**AN: Hello dearest's, I hope this goes over well and I complete out this story since I've been in the mood for something darker based. This is an AU Sookie and Eric, using mainly just their names and physical attributes, the rest is purely from my own dark creation of character and ideas, and hopefully if this story goes over well I can do a few tweaks and turn it into my first working novel. Please read and review for you are the ones that keep me going! **

_Chapter one: A New Forever_

There was a cloying feeling in the back of her throat that she couldn't swallow past, her mouth salivating but finding no relief as she swallowed again and again. Nausea rolled through her like the tides of the sea against the shore, in one instance retreating only to make its self known with foamy white force. Sookie sat with her hand's white knuckled in her lap as her body swayed and was jostled with the movement of the carriage she road in through the late night streets of London, heading away from all that she knew and into all that was unknown.

It was less than a fortnight ago that her father, ashen faced and in the grips of what she was sure was opium sickness from lack of his favored syrupy sweet tar like indulgence, had sat the young woman down to tell her of his decision on the path her life would be taking. The words dizzied her, and her heart grew cold to the man she called father, knowing know just how weak he was. From an early age the young lady knew she was the product of feminine vapid beauty and masculine frailty of spirit, but until that fateful night when her Papa broke the new of her impending fate, rambling to her the depths of his lunacy and selfishness, she hadn't realized just how unluckily born she had been. Lady Sookie Stackhouse was born to The Earl of Westicher Victor Stackhouse, a portly man with a generically kind face that over time saw increasing creases in his visage to mark his years on the earth, and Countess Aubrey of the house of Ashland, a once lovely woman that many said looked like a goddess spun of sunlight and silk in her youth only to later expire into a haggard appearance as twilight fell and the weight of her decisions gave way to disease and eventually death.

Every person of the high society of the Ton knew the rumors that had so burned the golden haired child's ears in her youth; "She's a wanton woman that blatantly has dalliances with every gent or willing prick she meets," "He's constantly gambling away their fortune, that poor girl will have no dowry in which to escape the shame of their life," "That poor child was fortunate enough to inherited her mothers angelic golden hair and her father's storybook worthy eyes, lets hope the same character does not follow or she will be a flirt and scandal before her season even begins." Every moment of her life shared around outsiders was time spent under the censure or pity of their side long gazes bathed in the rustling of their wagging tongues.

The young Sookie saw how every time a woman stroked her hair, silken wheat falling into curls, or stared into her summer blue eyes, flecks of green eyes smattering the almost pastel irises, there was that look that was both heartbroken for the girl's situation but in some part of their personal manor… a satisfaction, as if the very thought of scandal for the young girl and the hopelessness of her future prospects distracted from their day to day boredom and gave them something worth talking about. She hated them and their holier than thou pity, more so even than she hated her wayward parents.

Aubrey had been a self made whore, seeking some sort of fulfillment out of life she seemed to lack as a wife and mother, and had caught some disease that ate away at her body and mind until she finally let go of the life she had been fighting so hard to escape anyways. Victor had an addictive personality and did everything impulsively and in a grand over indulgent way; he loved Aubrey too fiercely and when she was gone he turned his unrequited love to gambling and when the losses where too high he reached for opium.

Her father's brash and impetuous nature was what had landed her in this carriage, bound for Rose-Evelyn Manor, sold by her father like some Persian rug, a beautiful item to adorn the cold and empty halls of the Grande Duke Eric Northman's estate, providing occasional comfort and give him one more thing for him to walk over as he pleased.

She had been in society less than a month's time with a small launch with such limited funds, but enjoying her time away from her family home, the only estate they owned after her father had gambled away the deeds to their other homes. There were a few suitors who seemed willing to overlook her position in life since she was titled, her beauty being a contributing factor to why she wasn't out rightly shunned. The men though had been greatly disinteresting and pompous or under the impression that the apple of her morals did not fall far from the tree of her mother's legacy. She had been surprised when her father sat her down in their drawing room, dust motes like ghostly snow in the dim light of the afternoon as he explained that she had an offer on her hand.

"This is more than I could ever ask of this world for you my peach," He said glassy eyes, that so mirrored her own, unfocused and looking anywhere but at his only daughter, "you are to be… spoken for by a Grand Duke."

Her brow had wrinkled in worry for she had not once come across, spoken with, nor danced with a Duke let alone a relative to the King, a Grand Duke, in her outings. "But Papa who is this that has asked for my hand?" Her alto voice was leery with the idyllic situation that had her father on edge as opposed to celebratory.

"The Grand Duke Eric Northman, second cousin to the King and a highly wealthy man. He will be your keeper now m'dear as he has overlooked our…lack of fortune and offered to be your protector."

The name rang a bell, a name whispered much like her own, except his was cast in the light of hellion and intrigue, painting him as both the most eligible and ineligible rake in all of England. It sounded wrong, all wrong; a man she had never once met wished to take her away to be her protector. The way her father had said the word protector as a stand in for affianced, intended, or anything of that nature that would imply marriage was a blazing alarm to the nature of this deal. She steeled her eyes at him, the weak man who was supposed to on this earth protect her and see her into a good marriage. He had failed his only job, a good marriage was the only redeeming quality to daughters, it was what they were born to do and the extent of their worth, even that small task he couldn't do without selfishness and error. "The Duke wants me as a mistress-"she hissed being cut off with the sorrow of his gaze as he shook his head against the idea.

"Now Sookie we don't know that to be absolute, he may wish to marry you for he will need to bear son's to carry on his titles of course, and what better way than with someone of title like yourself."

"Ha! Yes my dear title, the last chess piece we have left to play I suppose, and I bartered away like some cheap woman of inferior birth to the highest bidder."

"I thought you would be happy for a title and security Sookie!" Victor, ruddy in the cheeks, indignantly defended.

"You have not thought of my happiness this time, if ever there were a time." She defied rising in a soft whisper of her skirts as she strode from the room coldly, leaving him to the inevitable rolling of a thick perfumed ball, packing of the pipe, then the soft glow of his lighter as it lit the sticky substance. He would inhale the flower's sweet smoke then release it as if with the smoke all his problems and worries would follow out of his body and dissipate into thin air.

The carriage was drawling to a stop, how long she had ridden she did not know; from looking out into the pitch black of the witching hour Sookie knew that they were no longer in the hub and crowded city but rather in the open air of the near country side. She couldn't make out the Manor well, beyond the fact that it was an intimidating large building of a dark red almost brown colored brick that reminded her of the stain of dried blood against fabric and upholstery. There was something foreboding on the wind as a gust picked up, in it the chill of Autumn as she breathed a cool kiss onto the world in greeting of her arrival. The large door to the estate of Rose-Evelyn Manor opened revealing in dim light from the interior a tall and dark figure shrouded in shadow. The silhouette stepped out of the doors light and came towards her with sure and even steps. Each foot fall made her heart speed faster as she was sure that the very devil himself was coming to claim her.

The driver had dismounted and held up a lantern with the flickering glow of orange and gold, dancing and illuminating the wrote iron gate's entrance that led into the rambling and large Manor. He was coming closer, and closer, out of the distance becoming and even larger figure in the night and then finally her wide eyes beheld the dark fallen Angel that was the Grand Duke Eric of Rose-Evelyn Manor, Eighth in line for the crown. He was a frightening man with eyes that were blue but the very opposite of her own, like an icy river solid and unyielding in the frigid eve of the ending year. His hair was the hue of sand from some far off distant beach but lacking all the grainy texture and instead looking more enviable than her own. What gave her pause the most was the sardonic smirk on his lips, a cruel twist of a mouth that without speaking said volumes as he stood drinking her in and she fearfully taking in his masterful beauty, for that is the only adequate word for such translucent skin and startling features.

Then, to break the spell of the moment as two lives met to become one twisted path yet uncharted or walked, he spoke in a rich rumble of a voice; "Welcome Sookie to your new reality."

She was sure in that moment that Eric Northman was the sole creator of that chill that one felt slipping down their spine, be it in terror or lustful yearning, he was its original master, and now he could claim the title of her master as well.

**Please review and tell me what you thought, complete honesty! :D**


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